A Matter Of Time
by Solaris-Prime199
Summary: Every Story has a Beginning. Every Story has an End. Time flows from start to finish. In most Stories when your Ship goes down, when you take a round to the Gut, that's it. Game Over man... Game Over. Not this Time. No this Time were we're gonna kick Death in the Teeth, we'll tell Fate to do her worst, and we're all gonna have one hell of a Story. It's all just A Matter Of Time...
1. Chapter 1

**Date Published: 2017/05/01**

 **Date Re-Edited:**

* * *

 **Stargate: SG1 and Call Of Duty, are the sole properties of MGM and Treyarch/Infinity Ward/ Sledgehammer Games respectively. This is a work of Fiction, as well as non-profit, and thereby complies with their 'Term and Conditions' stipulated by the Companies themselves. The only thing I seek to gain with this Literary Work; is to improve my Creative Writing abilities, and if in the process someone were to enjoy what I have written…**

 **So be it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 **Manners My Good Man**

* * *

"Let's not do that again…"

"Ah come on Jack, it wasn't that bad–"

"Unscheduled Off-World Activation–"

A searing bolt of lightning almost took the Colonels head off–

"Everybody out!" Colonel O'Neill yelled, ducking to the side as more and more lightning started strike the walls, the floor, the ceiling of the Gate-Room, "Move! Move! Move!"

"Argh!"

One of the Airmen manning a Fifty next to the ramp went down. A blinding bolt of lightning had just struck his station. He was clutching his hands, screaming. Teal'c grabbed the wounded Airmen by the collar of his flak-vest, and dragged him from the lightning filled Gate-Room. Colonel O'Neill was close behind him.

"Harriman. Answers. Now!" Jack growled as he raced into the Control-Room, Carter and Daniel hot on his heels.

"I'm trying!" the nervous Master Sergeant spat; the blast-doors were down, but they could still hear the lightning striking the other side of the barrier... the equipment all around them was going crazy.

Fuzzy screens and wailing sirens… Jack was out of his element, so the Colonel deployed a tried and true solution–

"Carter. Fix!"

Send in the nerds…

The Major didn't even reply, she just slid into a chair next to Walter and started typing. Thirty seconds later the sirens fell silent–

"Thank you Carter–"

"It wasn't me, sir… the Wormhole stabilised on its own–"

"Sitrep," General Hammond demanded to know as he entered the Operations Room down the rear staircase.

"We have an Incoming Wormhole–"

"Not a Wormhole," Major Carter corrected while squinting at the screen in front of her, "I've got telemetry… putting it up on the screen…"

The screens above their heads filled with facts, figures, equations… Jack couldn't make heads or tails of it.

"What am I looking at?" General Hammond wanted to know… like Jack the General could stare at the screens all he wanted, it didn't mean they would suddenly start making sense.

"I've never seen anything like it–"

"The Gate-Rooms camera's are coming back online, sir… on screen… now."

The screens bolted above the viewing window flickered to life… an Active Stargate sitting at the centre of most of them. An Active Gate without an Event-Horizon. An Active Gate filled with swirling, twisting, turning energy–

"God damnit," Jack muttered as he started rubbing his temples with his one hand, the other cradling his P90, "well George, it looks like you're going to have to phone that friend of yours on Pennsylvania Avenue, and ask him to borrow the big-boy toys–"

"I'll make the call–"

"That won't be necessary General," Carter interrupted the pair, never once looking up from the terminal in front of her.

Jack was incredulous… and not afraid to show it, "you do remember the last time we ran into a similar vortex? That little cover-up cost us quite a few days sick leave… you remember it right? Swirling energy, twisting whirlpool… any of this ring a bell?"

"This isn't a Black-Hole, sir," Carter replied simply, finally looking away from the screen in front of her, "there are none of the usual signs… no gravimetric distortions, no temporal dilations, no exotic particles–"

"Carter could you dumb it down ʻ **just** ʼ a little…"

The Major was – by now – so used to the Colonels unusual behaviour, that she didn't even blink at the disruption, "it's not a Black-Hole, the energy-waves are moving in the wrong direction–"

"Oh, why didn't you say so, of course the wave thingies are moving in the wrong direction – what direction are they supposed to go anyway?"

"And the readings are all wrong," Carter muttered, she was so engrossed by the mystery in front of her that not even Jacks antics could distract the Major, "it's almost as if – wait… Walter, enhance this bit… here–"

The Master Sergeant was quick to do so, and a handful of seconds later they were all staring at a strangely shaped blur sitting along one of the edges of the vortex.

"Can you enhance the image?"

"Sorry Major, that's the best I can do," Sergeant Harriman replied honestly, if a bit mortified.

"Two arms, two legs, a head… it looks human to me," Jack chirped, before turning to Doctor Jackson for a… ah… second opinion, "what do you say Daniel… animal, vegetable or mineral?"

"Colonel, please–"

"O'Neill?"

"Ah, Teal'c… my buddy, my compadre, mi amigo…," Jack would've continued… if not for the dirty look he was getting from General Hammond… which was a good thing, Teal'c was a hairsbreadth away from spraining an eyebrow.

The General waved Major Carter forward to–

The windows rattled, the walls trembled, the nearby server stacks swayed–

"What was that? A tremor–"

"A Temporal Distortion–"

"Ah-ha! Just like–"

"Someone just came through!" Walter cried drawing their attention back to the monitors above of them.

There was a man on the ramp. A man wearing some kind of spacesuit. A man wearing a white helmet, with a transparent facemask. A man with a gun–

"This is General George Hammond of the United States Air-Force," their commanding officer declared, stepping up to the nearest mike, stating plainly that he wanted the man to, "drop your weapon and you will not be–"

"Earther Scum!" the strange man roared, whipping up his strange bronze rifle up–

 **Blam! Blam!**

"Nice fellow…," Colonel O'Neill commented cheerfully, as he turned to face the General, "still want to try and talk him down?"

Master Sergeant Harriman was the one to reply however.

"The PA's down," he informed them neutrally, "whatever he just hit us with… it… the intercom on this level is down–"

The walls rattled again–

"Someone's coming through!" Major Carter cried, her eyes riveted to the screen in front of her even as a server tower fell over behind them.

"How many?" General Hammond demanded to know, as he leaned down to look over the Major's shoulders.

"Six, seven, eight–no… **eleven** … we have twelve hostiles–"

The final tremor was worse. The glass between the blast screen and the Operations Centre, cracked. A pair of nearby monitors blew, showering the nearby airmen with glass and sparks. It didn't look, like the tremors were about to stop–

"We need to evacuate–"

The long tremor stopped just as suddenly as it started. Leaving more questions than answers… the first of which General Hammond tried to field–

"What the hell happened to the Gravity?!" the man in charge of the SGC cried as he tumbled uncertainly through the air, the Laws of Gravity and Inertia seemingly subverted… almost entirely.

Almost…

"This is amazing!" Major Carter cried as she tumbled, her boots struck the ceiling… the excited scientist quickly pushed off sailing back to her station, "inverting the Laws of Gravity – the possible implications–"

"Major focus," General Hammond grumbled, as a surprisingly graceful Teal'c helped him – and a slightly nauseous Doctor Jackson – closer to the floor.

Colonel O'Neill hardly noticed, he seemed to be enjoying this latest development far too much. Not that anyone was paying that much attention to the Colonel, as he attempted to swim across the room… using some kind of inverted backstroke–

"Someone's coming through!"

The next tremor wasn't as bad as the last. It quickly became obvious why. A lone grey man shaped blur shot out the Gate, trailing smoke and fire. He spun through the air, his boots striking the blast shield. The other intruders tried to react, the man in grey was faster.

 **Ftt-ftt…**

Two intruders died–

 **Ftt-ftt-ftt…**

Another three down. The rest were scrambling–

The Gate surged, and gravity reasserted itself. Most of the Team quickly recovered – **THUD** – Jack not so much. The men in the Gate Room were another matter. By the time the SGC personnel recovered most of the intruders were dead.

Except for a wounded man in red, and the lone grey gunman… who had what looked like and M16 Carbine pointed at the wounded man lying near the top of the ramp.

They had words. But no-one could hear what was said. Three shots rang out. The man in grey dropped to his knees–

"Medical Emergency, Medical Emergency… I need a medical team in the Gate-Room **now**!"

* * *

"You get anything out of him?"

"Does… ʻEarther-Foolʼ count?"

"No, it does not," the General replied, clearly unimpressed with the events of the last two hours, "hopefully Doctor Fraiser will have had better luck…"

Jack wasn't holding his breath on that, he'd just spent the last two hours interrogating a man of… few words. Mostly explicative's, punctuated by spittle… spending the better part of an afternoon being spat at was not how Colonel O'Neill had intended to spend his down time after a mission. Jack had intended to spend the afternoon, not-writing his report… maybe Fraiser would have something, and if not, then maybe Carter–

"How's our patient Doctor?" the General inquired, of the SGC's CMO who was standing outside the main surgical theater for the NORAD mountain complex… Fraiser looked stressed.

"He'll live… I think," the good Doctor admitted candidly, clearly hedging her bets, and at their confused looks she explained that, "you are of course aware of the androids we… ʻencounteredʼ… from P3X-989?"

"How can I forget?" Jack bemoaned grandiosely, as if the world were resting on his shoulders.

General Hammond did his best to ignore the melodramatic Colonel, by prodding the Doctor back on track, "what have you uncovered Doctor…?"

"This…," Fraiser replied, handing over a phial of oily white liquid to the General.

"What am I looking at?"

"That's what I was wondering…," Doctor Fraiser muttered shaking her head irritably, she then started listing the tests she had already performed, "I tried both FLP and RFLP analysis, PCR and STR–"

"In English Doctor… for the Colonels sake of course," General Hammond – in a rare tongue in cheek moment – interjected… Jack looked flabbergasted.

"Was that a Joke?"

"Doctor…"

"Uhm, yes… none of the tests were working, even the techniques we developed to type alien DNA… so I had to get creative–"

"Doctor… Janet… I have to brief the President in less than an hour."

Fraiser just huffed and handed over a cardboard folder, explaining all the while that, "it's filled with nutrients, it carries oxygen and contains no pathogens that we can detect… what you've got there General, is synthetic blood…"

If the good General was impressed he didn't show it…

"Anything else…?"

"I gave him a quick CT – I couldn't risk an MRI – got more questions than answers… the pictures are on page six," Fraiser muttered darkly, although she still managed to give Jack a knowing smile, "I can't even begin to speculate what half those implants do–"

"But you can make an educated guess…," General Hammond stated with a small knowing smile.

"Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out… reinforced joints, dermal armour, synthetic blood, artificial Ferro-magnetic muscle fibre bundles–"

"That's a mouthful…"

"Tell me about it…," the Doctor muttered as she massaged her aching brow, "I had to ask a friend in Area 51 to take a look at the scans – pages seven and eight – and tell me what I was looking at… the next time you need someone to patch him up, drop him off in Engineering…"

Hammond was less concerned about what was happening tomorrow, and more about the here and now, "can he talk?"

"We'll find out when he wakes up–"

"Damn… let's hope Carter has better news…"

* * *

 **Blam! Blam! Blam! Click…**

"Having fun Carter?"

"You have no idea," Samantha chuckled as she put down the double handled weapon, on a table at the far end of the makeshift shooting range.

Right next to Daniel, who was sitting on a folding chair with his fingers in his ears–

"Is it over," the bespectacled man inquired meekly.

"Come on Daniel, it can't be that bad…," O'Neill muttered roguishly as he swaggered into the room behind General Hammond, "a little noise never hurt anyone–"

"What have you found?" Hammond questioned the two - diligent - members of SG1, in the hopes that he might get some answers, despite… the irreverent Colonel's best efforts.

Sam was busy disarming the rifle she had just fired, so Doctor Jackson was the first to speak, "it didn't take that long to translate, mostly serial numbers… some model names… the rest is password protected–"

"Oh come on Daniel… what? No showing us all just how smart you are… Okay, let me guess… uhm-m… it's Ancient… hmmn, it's coming to me, it's coming to me… ancient Babylonian… no? Okay Sumerian then–"

"English Jack… it's all written in English," Daniel muttered picking up a nearby piece of armour and handed it to the Colonel, "Type-7 SDF Combat-Rig… it's all there in black and white…"

"But that doesn't tell me where they came from," Hammond replied sternly, turning over the helmet in his hands.

"Ah-ha, but this will," Carter declared, holding up a small device with a curved screen… she waved it over a nearby weapon – the one the Major had just finished testing – in seconds the blank screen filled with names, facts, figures… Carter sounded ecstatic as she read out the information, "the DCM-8… Directed-Energy Automatic Combat-Shotgun… made by Atomic Dynamics, headquartered in Berne Switzerland–"

"Looks like I'm going to have to make a phone-call to a friend in Geneva…," the General muttered irritably… this was going to lead to an international incident, Hammond was sure of it.

"You may want to hold off on that call General," Doctor Jackson interceded, finally getting out of his chair, he waved Major Carter over to explain.

The Major quickly scanned through the information on the device in her hands, before reading out, "Atomic Dynamics… incorporated in 2081, Home-Office… Berne Switzerland, initial stock offering 2083."

It didn't take a theoretical physicist to realize exactly what they were dealing with–

"Time Travel!" the Colonel spat, throwing his hands in the air, "I hate Time Travel–"

"What information can you extract from that device?" the General inquired with a nod at the curved screen in the Major's hands.

"Not much," Carter admitted tiredly, "the device only shows the last item scanned, the rest of the device is password protected–"

"After a cursory examination, what can you tell me about the spacesuits," General Hammond redirected with a wave towards a series of old trestle tables weighed down with several – very bloody looking – spacesuits.

Carter put down the device, then waved to the two tables – one heavily laden, the other not so much – first one, then the other, "two different design philosophies… function over form, and form over function."

Major Carter then picked up two pieces of grey material, holding them up, one in each hand, "see this–"

"It looks the same," Jack muttered, simply stating the obvious.

"Exactly! The pieces are all interchangeable," Carter replied as she pulled the suit sitting in front of her apart in seconds, before replacing the pieces with the parts in his hands, "the same piece of armour that goes around the neck, can be used around the knee joints, the sections around the arms and legs can be swapped out for segments around the torso–"

"What about the other suit?" the General inquired, redirecting the young scientist into a more productive direction.

Major Carter picked her next words very carefully, as if she was not quite sure what to say… Carter rubbed her neck as she tried to explain that, "it's like night and day… like comparing a thirteenth century suit of plate with NASA's latest EVA Gear… **this** … this is a whole new ball game."

Carter picked up a dull grey upper torso piece, and held it up for them to see as she explained that the suit had, "multiple ceramic layers, steel, carbon fiber, titanium carbide, and half a dozen things I can't even identify… a built-in re-breather, smaller and more efficient than anything we have in our arsenal… armoured pressure sleeves, a partial exo-skeleton, heads-up-display with thermal-infrared-sonar–"

"You've made your point Major," Hammond chuckled, as he waved the excitable scientist down.

"I don't think I Have General," Carter insisted much to the General's surprise, "this armour – these weapons – are far beyond anything we have…"

Carter picked up a rifle, this one at least Jack recognised, "come on Carter… even I can tell that's just a modified AK–"

"It may look like a Kalashnikov, but this little rifle packs one hell of a punch – uhm – sir. According to the wrist computer, this is a Mashimo-Volk… it fires a seven-point-six-two ʻDisruptorʼ round. The barrel imparts a charge, and – well… see for yourself…"

Carter waved to a nearby table, weighed down with standard SGC issued body armour… it wasn't pretty.

"I'm guessing the results of your live-fire experiments were far less than you expected," Hammond inferred, after inspecting a rather thick flak vest that had fist sized holes punched clean through it.

"Worse…," Carter muttered as she picked up a very fancy – but still quite perforated – vest from the table next to her, "it put a great big dirty hole clean through our latest interceptor vest… and I'm no closer to replicating any of… **this** … That's the bad news–"

"Ah, so you actually have good news then…," Jack remarked cheekily.

"Yes, sir… a name," Carter replied, picking up the grey chest plate once more, "our guest in the infirmary, is one… Staff Sergeant Morgan… SATO Marine Core–"

"And that is?" Jack questioned petulantly.

"Haven't a clue–"

"Why thank you Daniel, I almost forgot you were here–"

" **Fraiser to General Hammond…"**

The man in question quickly made it to the nearest intercom, his response was short and to the point, "what is it Doctor?"

" **Our guest is awake General, and he's asking to speak to the man in charge…"**

* * *

 **This Story is what happens when you let a plot bunny rattle about your skull for far too long.**

 **As of this fine May First, I have written (and typed) up 14 Chapters covering 3 Stargate SG1 Episodes.**

 **I've hit a little writers block, but by the time that becomes a problem I should have at least written a few more Chapters.**

 **I haven't got an End-Game for this Story.**

 **I don't know where it's going and I don't know what it will look like when it gets there.**

 **Fair warning, there will be quite a lot of Crossover between the other Games in the COD franchise (as well as some elements from Ghost In The Shell / the new Movie as well as the Anime/Manga Series) and a few other elements that I have in mind but haven't written yet.**

 **I'll update this story with Chapter 2 on 2017/05/31.**

 **Thanks For Reading Hope You Enjoy This Strange Trip.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Date Published:31/05/2017**

 **Date Re-Edited:**

* * *

 **Stargate: SG1 and Call Of Duty, are the sole properties of MGM and Treyarch/Infinity Ward/ Sledgehammer Games respectively. This is a work of Fiction, as well as non-profit, and thereby complies with their 'Term and Conditions' stipulated by the Companies themselves. The only thing I seek to gain with this Literary Work; is to improve my Creative Writing abilities, and if in the process someone were to enjoy what I have written…**

 **So be it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 **Grammar Is Important**

* * *

"How's your patient Doc?"

"Not the best, and certainly not the worst… polite, charming, slightly verbose, and only mildly facetious–"

"So… Jack on a good then–"

"You wound me Daniel," the very facetious gentleman in question cried out melodramatically while clutching at his chest.

A cry that was generally ignored by both General Hammond and Major Carter, someone in this outfit had to act professional, and it certainly wasn't going to be Jack–

"Please take us too him Doctor," General Hammond requested, while motioning to the infirmaries entrance, "has he said anything?"

"That's the strangest thing…," Doctor Fraiser mused while checking a nearby chart, "apart from the standard; name, rank and serial number… he's hardly said anything–"

"He said enough to ask to speak to George–"

"Jack… his exact words were; take me to your leader–"

"I've always wanted to say that–"

"In here," Doctor Fraiser muttered, leading them into a private room just off the main infirmary.

She opened the door to a very interesting sight–

"What are you doing?!" Doctor Fraiser demanded to know of the man standing next to the only bed in the room, slowly but surely unwrapping the bandages bundled around his waist, "you shouldn't be out of–"

"Doctor I'm fine…," the roguish looking young man insisted, he had a very posh accent, he almost sounded–

"I'll be the judge of that," Fraiser snapped, she was already standing in front of the – relatively – tall wounded man…what she found clearly baffled the good Doctor, as she prodded at a trio of puckered white scars across his stomach, "this shouldn't be possible–"

"The miracles of modern medicine," he replied genially, as he waved the good Doctor aside before pulling on a T-Shirt… it was at this point that he noticed SG1 standing in the doorway… his grin was insidious, "why Janet… I'm hardly decent–"

"Shush you–"

A polite cough from the General redirected the good Doctor before she could say anything that she might regret later, clearly introductions were in order and Doctor Fraiser was happy to oblige, "Staff Sergeant Morgan, this General George Hammond–"

The now identified Staff Sergeant snapped to attention at the introduction, a stiff picture perfect naval salute following right after–

"At ease…," General Hammond instructed the Sergeant a moment later… right after he had returned the salute with one of his own.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance General," the Staff Sergeant declared earnestly, standing at ease, "with all due respect General, I'd like to get back to the Tigris A-SAP."

The General circumvented the question by asking one of his own, "what's the last thing you remember Staff Sergeant?"

Sergeant Morgan seemed surprised, but that didn't stop him from replying that, "I was repelling boarders on the aft deck, Captain Ferran was prepping the old girl to enter the Slip–"

"The Slip?" Major Carter inquired curiously.

"Slipspace," the Staff Sergeant replied simply – as if that explained it all – before continuing with his brief explanation of events, "next thing I know, I'm riding the Slip, the only thing between me and certain death was my Rig and a Prayer… didn't know you could do that by the way. Didn't have the time to even determine just how far up shit-creak–"

Another polite cough from the General got the… very… very strange briefing back on track, "sorry sir, anyway… a few seconds after entering Slipspace, I wound up in Zero-G facing down a bunch of SetDef Jackboots… training kicked-in, the rest is on my Helmet-Cam… did I miss anything?"

A large helping of confused looks were passed around the room, the Staff Sergeant seemed to have gotten the lion's share of Bemused-Look Number-Three. No-one knew what to say… Jack was surprisingly speechless, Daniel and Sam were sharing uncertain glances, and the good Doctor was focused quite alarmingly on the clipboard clutched in her hands. That left Hammond…

"What is the Date, Sergeant?" the General inquired… in a deliberately off-hand manner.

"March Third, Twenty-One-Fifty-Three…," the Staff Sergeant replied almost instantly, uncertainly curdling into outright confusion, as he inquired, "how long was I out?"

General Hammond cast a quick glance towards the other SGC-personnel in the room, while choosing his next words very carefully…

"I don't know how to tell you this… but the current date is October Sixteenth Nineteen-Ninety-Nine–"

"Shit," Sergeant Morgan muttered in shock, sliding onto the only bed in the room… head in his hands.

"You don't sound surprised…," Doctor Jackson noted curiously… with a hint of… surprise.

"I know how Slipspace works, it violates three Laws of Physics just to get you going faster-than-light… and as Einstein – that crazy bastard – once said… if you go far enough, fast enough, you'll arrive before you left…"

"He paraphrasing…," Major Carter muttered biting her lip… at their looks of surprise she explained, "but accurate… theoretical physicists postulate that quantum entanglement could–"

"And moving on…," Colonel O'Neill cried cheerfully before the Major could have a full-blown geek-out, "I'm starving… who wants lunch?"

Major Carter shot the Colonel an annoyed glare, but before she could say anything… the Staff Sergeant threw them a curve-ball–

"I need a drink…"

* * *

"He say anything?"

"Nothing informative General Hammond…"

"Nothing obscene I hope…"

"Nothing I have not endured before…," Teal'c replied magnanimously, finally turning away from the glass wall of the observation room to face the General… an eyebrow raised in question.

"The rest of SG1 are entertaining a… guest," General Hammond answered the unspoken question, before gesturing to the man in the isolation chamber below, "you think you can get anything out of him?"

"No… not without resorting to methods I find… distasteful…"

"That may be out of our hands," Hammond muttered sadly.

Surprised, Teal'c inquired, "are you feeling unwell General Hammond?"

"The last few days have been… tense," General Hammond noted diplomatically, before gesturing Teal'c to follow him out of the observation room, "the Oval Office has been giving me the run around, and all my calls to the Pentagon keep getting transferred to Colonel Maybourne's Office…"

"You suspect foul play…?"

"I suspect politics Teal'c," General Hammond replied curtly as he lead the way to the nearest mess hall, "just politics… nothing more, nothing less…"

They reached the Officers Mess before Teal'c could respond, the halls were filled with laughter… and the rest of SG1 were sitting right in the middle of it.

"So we fished Reyes out of the wide blue yonder, and what do we discover…? He's not wearing a survival pack, it's E3N hanging on like a bloody limpet, saved the man's life the Bot did… I'd never seen anything like it before, so I had to ask the Bot; ʻwhy didn't you just let him go?ʼ You know what he said; ʻmy programmer was a stubborn SOB… **sir** ʼ," the table and those around the Staff Sergeant burst out laughing, Jack, Daniel, Carter SG's 7 and 8 were in the thick of it, until–

"General on deck!" Morgan yelled, snapping off a salute, the rest of the airmen in the canteen scrambling to follow.

The effect was surprising, and General Hammond – a man who prided himself in running an open, informal, command – found himself smack-dab in the middle of all… **this** –

"At ease," General Hammond muttered uncomfortably, this was getting to be a pattern.

Jack – in a move showing just how perceptive he really was – raised his voice and asked, "what happened when you got Reyes back aboard the Tigris…?"

"We transferred him to a shuttle and dropped him back on the Retribution, but once I got back aboard the Old Girl I put in a request for our own E3N–"

"Always good to have comics relief," Colonel O'Neill noted sagely.

"So that's why we keep you around…," Daniel announced his epiphany to the entire room, the sarcasm was as thick as molasses.

"I'll have you know, General Hammond keeps me around for my Wit and my Charm," Jack declared pompously… the gravitas of the statement was slightly undermined by the raspberry the Colonel blew in Daniels direction.

Once the laughter died down, General Hammond tried to wrestle the conversation back in the right direction, "as amusing as this all is, my superiors are looking for answers–"

"And you think I can give them to you…," the Staff Sergeant noted succinctly, he seemed to think on it for a moment, before declaring, "sure… why not–"

"Woah, woah!" Samantha Carter cried out, clearly alarmed at the direction they were heading in, "we don't know what could happen if–"

"Causality is not an issue…," Sergeant Morgan insisted, Carter was flabbergasted… but before she could articulate her position, the Staff Sergeant gave his, "the very act of Faster-Than-Light travel violates the very Laws of Time and Space… the nature of Quantum Physics being what they are…"

Sergeant Morgan fell silent at the looks of absolute confusion on the faces of those around him… perhaps discretion – intellectual or otherwise – was the better part of Valor, "let's just say that my very existence negates any and all possible–"

"How can you possibly know that?!"

"Well Major; I haven't spontaneously ceased to exist, none of the twelve bodies I dropped earlier have disappeared… I'm sure you would have mentioned something if they–"

"Eleven Staff Sergeant," General Hammond corrected–

"Excuse me?"

"We only have eleven bodies in the morgue," General Hammond informed the Time Traveler calmly, "the twelfth we patched up and confined to the stockade–"

"General Hammond to Operations, General Hammond to Operations…"

The General quickly found his way to the nearest intercom, his finger was on the button when he declared, "this is Hammond, I'm on my–"

"Sir, the NID are here for the prisoners…"

* * *

The thirty seconds it took General Hammond and company to reach the Briefing Room above the Ops Center, were spent in a tense silence. A tense, strained silence… that only got worse by the second. General Hammond was angry – outraged – a hot simmering anger… and the source of his ire was sitting in his chair–

"Ah General Hammond, so good of you to–"

Colonel Maybourne was interrupted halfway through his plastic greeting as Colonel Jack O'Neill wheeled his chair – with Maybourne still in it – to the other end of the table, before wheeling an empty chair back for the General.

"Thank you Colonel," the General nodded to Jack as he took his seat at the head of the table… O'Neill on his right, Morgan on his left, and the rest of SG1 arrayed defensively around them… Hammond's position was clear.

"Now General this doesn't have to be–"

"Harriman?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Notify the Joint Chiefs of Staff that we have a situation–"

"Right away–"

"Now hang on just a minute–"

"Colonel Maybourne, I've had it up to here with your games," General Hammond snapped waving his hand a foot over his bald head while staring down the very uncomfortable looking NID Colonel, "now either you have legitimate orders from our Superiors – in which case a call to the Joint Chiefs is simply a formality… **or** … I need to make a call using the nice shiny red phone on my desk. Which is it going to be Colonel?" Hammond was clearly unimpressed.

And Maybourne… was trying to run damage control.

"The President is getting impatient, you haven't been reporting in–"

"I record all my calls Colonel. I wonder how interested the President would be in even half of the conversations we've shared over the phone…?"

"Is that a threat?"

"Is that a threat, **sir** ," General Hammond repeated, his gaze hard, his tone sharp as razor, "I out rank you **Colonel**. And as such my orders supersede yours, and until such time–"

"General?" every eye in the room turned to face Sergeant Harriman, who stood in the doorway to the General's Office, "I have General Ryan on line one."

"Thank you Walter… I'll take it here," General Hammond replied, reaching for the black phone on the table in front of him–

"That won't be–"

"This is General Hammond… Michael it's good to hear from you. Listen, I've got a bit of a situation here – ah-ah… yes, be that as it may, Staff Sergeant Morgan is co-operating fully – yes… yes he is… I will… you'll have an update within the hour. Thank you General…," Hammond ended his call by gently placing the phone back in its cradle, the look he was giving Maybourne on the other hand was far from friendly, "I just had a very illuminating conversation with the Chief of Staff of the Air-Force, it seems that the reports that I gave you earlier, failed to reach the Pentagon… I am to report **directly** to General Ryan in the future. General Ryan was very surprised to hear that you had orders' Colonel… in fact he was rather surprised over your involvement at all. As it stands, Staff Sergeant Morgan will remain a guest of the SGC for the foreseeable future. Good day Colonel…"

Taking the dismissal for what it was, Colonel Maybourne gathered his things and stood up from his place at the end of the table.

The smug bastard had been knocked down a peg or two, but he just couldn't leave quietly… he just had to have the last word, "it hardly matters… one golden goose is as good as another–"

"What did you d–"

" **All personnel General Quarters. Security Breach. All personnel General Quarters. Security Breach."**

* * *

" **Security Teams to Isolation. This is Private Simons we have casualties. I repeat. We have men down – Dear God… how can one man do this–"**

"This General Hammond to all SGC Personnel… I am placing the mountain on lock-down," the General paused to give Colonel O'Neill a nod, before turning back to the intercom on the desk, "all Security Teams report to the Armouries on levels 28, 19 and 8… I want a room by room search of the entire mountain. Hammond out."

Orders given, General Hammond walked out to find a very strange scene. O'Neill and Maybourne was standing toe-to-toe – nose-to-nose – and neither were budging an inch.

At the sound of his approaching wingtips, Maybourne broke his staring contest with O'Neill to snap that, "I have places to be General… you can't–"

"I can and I will," General Hammond snapped, his patience clearly wearing thin with the odious little NID bagman, "where are the rest of SG1?"

"I sent them ahead with Morgan, figure that after what happened in the Gate-Room… the Sergeant may just be able to hunt our little escapee down–"

"Good. With me Jack," when Maybourne made to follow, General Hammond pointed to a pair of nearby airmen and gave instructions that, "no-one enters or leaves this room."

He looked pointedly at Maybourne before repeating, "no-one… am I understood."

"Yes, sir–"

"Where we heading Jack?"

"Level 21, General. The infirmary sir," Colonel O'Neill replied, holding open the doors to a nearby elevator.

General Hammond waited until the doors had closed, before asking, "how bad is it Jack?"

"We're getting causality reports from three separate levels, twelve dead and counting…," Colonel O'Neill whispered, as if saying it out loud somehow made it worse, "he was last seen entering an air-shaft on Level 10… I had Walter notify Peterson, they have birds in the air as we speak."

Hammond didn't know what to say, so he said nothing… he just watched as the numbers on the LED above the door click down from twenty-eight… to twenty-seven… twenty-six… twenty-five… twenty-four… twenty-three… twenty-two… and finally–

"Colonel!"

"Sit-Rep Major!" Hammond snapped, marching straight out of the elevator, passed Carter and right up to the doors of the infirmary.

Major Carter was trying to explain the situation the whole way there, "seventeen dead, six of them Maybourne's people… he got away with half a dozen P90's and a pair of Beretta's–"

"Where is the Staff Sergeant?"

"He helped keep Private Andrews alive long enough for Fraiser to get there," Carter explained as they finally made it to the infirmary, "he saved that man's life, he's–"

"He's dead," Morgan muttered darkly… his voice was cold and empty… his T-Shirt was gone, his arms were stained blood red right up to his elbows… his sweatpants were absolutely covered in blood, which had soaked through at the knees.

He was a mess… but his eyes… his eyes were dead… and his next words chilled them to the bone…

"Permission to deploy… General."

* * *

 **That escalated real quick, and here ya'll were expecting me to wax lyrical with another 4 or 5 Chapters of exposition weren't ya?**

 **I hope to keep this pace for the foreseeable future, and what do you know, I've got another 12 Chapters just like this one.**

 **Short, sweet and to the point. On that note look to my Profile Page, I hope to have all my Vision Board Stuff up by the next posting.**

 **See you soon.**

 **Next Update:30/06/2017**


	3. Chapter 3

**Date Published: 2017/07/02  
**

 **Date Re-Edited:**

 **Stargate: SG1 and Call Of Duty, are the sole properties of MGM and Treyarch/Infinity Ward/ Sledgehammer Games respectively. This is a work of Fiction, as well as non-profit, and thereby complies with their 'Term and Conditions' stipulated by the Companies themselves. The only thing I seek to gain with this Literary Work; is to improve my Creative Writing abilities, and if in the process someone were to enjoy what I have written…**

 **So be it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **Not If, When**

* * *

"Link up! Set your radios to; five-seven-three-two-Charlie-Charlie-Delta–"

"We're five minutes out–"

"Alright! Listen up or be sorry… we are en-route to the Colorado Springs CID. A Hostile designated as Insurgent-Actual, has been sighted in an industrial area South of the CBD. Insurgent-Actual is personally responsible for the Deaths of eighteen enlisted personnel. This is not a Bag-&-Grab. We do not intend to apprehend this man. Shoot on site. Do not hesitate. Hesitation is a hole in the head. Any questions? No… good–"

"Thirty seconds out," the Pilot of the Chinook called out over the radio.

"Final weapons check," Staff Sergeant Morgan ordered as he made his way down the centre-aisle of the twin rotor helicopter… his futuristic grey and black armour stood out starkly next to the SG Teams in their black Tactical-Gear.

"Rules of Engagement…?"

Morgan didn't answer the Airmen's question, but he did turn to O'Neill for his opinion, "Colonel?"

"You're running the show Staff Sergeant," Jack replied as he adjusted the night-vision goggles perched atop his knit-wool cap.

"Fine. You see the son of a bitch you put him down. That answer your question Left-Tenant?"

"Crystal sir–"

"We're over the target, looking for an LZ–"

"Keep us in the air," Sergeant Morgan over-ruled the Pilot, as he marched back up the aisle and into the Cockpit, "anything on the Scope?"

"Nothing on the FLIR, civilian radio traffic is quiet… no contacts–"

"Keep us at two-hundred," Morgan ordered the Pilot, making his way back to the rear-ramp… he stood next to the Gunner manning the Fifty-Cal sitting on the end of it, "he's down there somewhere… now we just have to find him."

Morgan had barely finished talking, when the Co-Pilot called out, "I've got something on a civilian band, three blocks North–"

"Details?"

"Suspected Gang-Shooting. Six D-O-A's. Nine-Mike-Mike NATO Shells found on the scene–"

"Take us in," the Staff Sergeant ordered the Pilot as he did one final check on his Gear, "okay… this is how we're going to play it; I'll insert from altitude and locate the bastard. The Bird will pin the Target in place with the Fifties, while you and your men Fast-Rope in… any questions?"

"Call-Signs?" Colonel O'Neill asked flatly, from the end of the ramp next to Morgan.

"This is why I don't do Pre-Op Prep… Okay; the Bird is Raptor, SG's 1, 6 and 7 will be Raven…"

"What about you?"

"Call me Reaper…," Morgan replied coldly as he stepped off the edge of the ramp.

Colonel O'Neill watched slack jawed as Morgan plummeted to the ground, nose down. Ten feet before the ground, in a flash of smoke and fire, he spun in the air boots striking the concrete… whatever sounds from the ground were drowned out by the Twin-Rotor-Wash from the Chinook.

"I've got to get me one of those," Jack muttered with a grin, before making his way over to where Carter was sitting next to one of the side doors, "what do you have for me, Carter?"

"A live feed from Morgan's Helmet Cam," the Major replied factually, as Colonel O'Neill plonked down in the empty crash-seat next to her–

"Reaper-Actual to all Raven-Elements, no-sign of Insurgent-Actual. Switching to Thermal/Trojan," Morgan informed them calmly over the radio, as they watched him change weapons over the Video-Feed, "No-Contacts. Beginning sweep."

The atmosphere in the Chinook was tense, no-one dared speak… the only sound that filled the insulation lined bay was the thrum of the rotors, as the Chopper circled the dark dilapidated industrial area. On screen they could see Morgan on the move; checking corners, clearing rooms… first one warehouse, then the next. Room after disused room, corrugated in rusting tin and rain warped plywood.

Morgan was good…

He was quick, precise, deliberate… all the hallmarks of a Great Operator… Morgan was good, if a bit mechanical–

"I've got something," the Staff Sergeant chirped over the radio, as he kneeled down to examine a small trail of droplets that appeared luminescent through the scope of Morgan's nasty looking SMG, "Enhancing…"

A small screen popped up on the laptop, showing what looked like–

"I've got blood, its fresh…," Morgan followed the trail to the sharp corner of a nearby warehouse, he leant against it and peaked the barrel of his weapon round the corner, "I've got a trail… Reaper-Actual to all Elements converge on my location–"

"You heard the man," Colonel O'Neill snapped, jumping from his seat and making his way to the rear-ramp where an airmen was setting up the repelling gear, "get ready–"

 **BOOM!**

The windows rattled, and they were all nearly thrown off their feet–

"Report?!" O'Neill snarled, as he hung onto a nearby support as the Chinook spun through the air, once… twice–

Then recovered.

As the Chopper stabilized, Jack staggered to his feet and over to a nearby port-hole… what he saw chilled his blood… it felt like there was ice running through his veins…

"Dear God…," Carter whispered in horror… she saw it too…

There was a dirty yellow mushroom cloud hanging over downtown Colorado.

* * *

"Make a hole. Make a hole."

"General Hammond, sir – I'm so –"

"At ease Major… at ease…"

"Thank you sir," Major Carter whispered as she collapsed back onto a small folding chair, in the corner of the Forrest Green Command Tent the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) had set up in an old High School… less than a mile from Ground-Zero.

General Hammond eased himself into a chair next to the tired Major, he sat there rubbing his right knee… his joints weren't like they used to be. Hammond sat back, watching teams of rescuers come and go… Navy, Air-Force, the Marines, Army, the Reserves… Fire Fighters, Policemen and women, Paramedics… civilian volunteers… Doctors, School Teachers, Accountants… men and women from all walks of life, drawn together in a time of tragedy… an event that General Hammond couldn't skirt around any longer.

"What happened here Major…?"

"I don't know General… I just don't know," Major Carter whispered her head in her hands, "one minute we had a lead, the next we were scrambling to get out of the contamination area–"

"Nuclear? Chemical? Biological?"

"Mercury…," a tired Carter muttered wearily, "Asbestos, Chlorine, Carbon-Monoxide, Sulphur-Dioxide… those warehouses were full General… full of raw materials, manufactured products… thousands of tons of Goods that are now either on fire, or spread across half of downtown smouldering… until all the fires are contained everyone within a hundred miles is at risk–"

"How many?"

Carter didn't answer right away… and General Hammond couldn't blame her, they'd lost more men in the last six hours than the entire SGC had lost in the last six years combined. Not that the sight before them inspired much confidence… the skies were choked with poisonous black fumes, the horizon ablaze with a hundred different hues… but the terrible beauty of the flames was not what drew their eyes downward.

No… it was the body bags… more than Hammond cared to count–

"Fifty-six…," Carter muttered at last, "and that's just the ones they've managed to recover… there's whole sections of downtown that are still on fire that we have no access too–"

"Any sign of Staff Sergeant Morgan?"

"I doubt we'll ever find anything…," Carter muttered despondently, shaking her head tiredly, "he was too close to the blast, there's nothing–"

"General Hammond… they've found a survivor," a nearby Air-Force radio-operator announced, a forest green headset dangling around his neck, "they're bringing him in now–"

"With me Major," Hammond ordered as he swept out of the Command Center towards the make-shift motor-pool set up on the schools blacktop.

There was a row of trucks being unloaded by a platoon of Army Service Personnel, lines of civilians being sent through a thorough decontamination cycle and dozens of CDC Teams wearing yellow Hazmat Gear crossing back and forth. The General in his Service-Dress and Flight-Cap stood out like a sore thumb. Hammond led the way, there was a convoy of trucks and humvees coming down the road, it didn't take a Rocket-Scientist to figure out where they needed to be to intercept this ʻsurvivorʼ.

The lead humvee rumbled passed the pair before either of them could flag it down. Hammond turned towards it to–

"General look–"

Hammond spun round, only to find–

"My God…"

It was Morgan. He was alive. His armour was scratched and covered in soot. He was battered, but alive. And he was carrying a body… a very small body.

The Staff Sergeant didn't stop to chat.

He walked right passed the General, passed Major Carter, passed the lines of silent men and women… no-one spoke, no-one made any move to stop him… you could have heard a pin drop. Morgan gently put down the small badly burnt body at the end of the long line of body bags. He crossed the… child's arms over its small emaciated chest…

"Rest now young one…

Your suffering is behind you…

Were you go now…

You must go alone…

One day we shall meet again…"

"Poetic…," Colonel O'Neill noted solemnly, General Hammond hadn't even noticed the man's approach.

"The world I come from… Religion has no place in it," Morgan muttered quietly, his battered helmet completely obscured his face, but he sounded… tired, "philosophy and self-reflection had – or at least one day will – replace unthinking fanaticism and tired old dogma… but man still needs hope, a Life after Death… and I'm rambling…"

"Take it easy Sergeant," Jack soothed by resting a calloused hand on the tired Time Travellers shoulder, "you've been through a lot–"

"I should have seen it coming–"

"No-one could have foreseen–"

"I've been fighting these bastards for over thirty years!" Morgan snarled as he ripped his scorched helmet off and threw it at the ground.

Morgan's helmet bounced and rolled to a stop more than ten feet away, but the Staff Sergeant wasn't done, "Thirty years! I've seen nearly every dirty trick in the book! Strapping bombs to children. Venting Atmo. in civilian areas. Viral bombing population centers. That IED was god-damn textbook… I should've seen it coming," Morgan muttered as he collapsed on a nearby crate… head in his hands.

Colonel O'Neill was flabbergasted… but not for the reasons one would think–

"An IED?"

"An Improvised Explosive Device–"

"I know what an IED is," O'Neill snapped flustered, "I know what a car bomb can do, this – god-damn it this wasn't an IED–"

"Carter!" Morgan growled.

"Er-yes?"

"That archaic laptop. Hand it over–"

"Now wait a minute–"

"Here," Carter simply handed the computer over without a fight.

"Primitive…," Morgan muttered irritably as he held the heavy little laptop up with one hand.

"What are you…," any protest Jack may have had died on his lips…

Images were flashing across the screen of the laptop. Far too fast for Jack or anyone else to make out… but that wasn't the most startling thing. Morgan hadn't even touched a single key–

"Here," Morgan shoved the laptop into Jacks hands, the screen had a single still on it.

"What am I looking at?"

"The last five frames from my Helmet-Cam," the Staff Sergeant replied as he scooped up the Helmet in question, the sphere-shaped camera that was mounted on the front was missing, "scroll using the arrow keys…"

Jack did as he was told. The first still showed a warehouse, with a long sixteen wheeled tanker in it. A pipe was running from the truck to a nearby drain. Morgan's M16 knock-off raised to the right of the screen, and armoured hand raised on the left. The following two were the same. The fourth frame had a flash of light near the Tanker. The final frame contained a blossoming blast… centered on the drain.

Jack handed the laptop over to the General. He didn't know what to say. All this. All this death and destruction. All of it… caused by a single Tanker–

"Oldest trick in the book," Sergeant Morgan muttered, shaking his head sadly, "and I walked right into it. pump a flammable liquid or gas into a confined system – pipes, air vents, space station, you name it… Wait fifteen minutes and light a match… explosive decompression… the girl was bait."

"You can't be serious–"

"He popped the Bangers to get the Local Departments attention, grabbed the girl to lure in first Responders… seen it before…," the Staff Sergeant muttered darkly as his eyes lingered on the growing line of body bags, "bled the girl, they murdered her on a whim, probably not the last little body I'll have to pull out of the rubble… god-damn… you know what the last thing I tried to do is? Hack the detonator… old habits die hard… bastard used a two-way radio… no tech to hack…"

"Old Habits?" Jack asked the tired Marine, doing his best to keep the man talking… lest he slip into shock.

Morgan chuckled, he actually laughed… amidst all this death, all this tragedy… he laughed.

The Staff Sergeant tapped the side of his head, while he explained, "D.N.I. – Direct Neural Interface… some eggheads at Langley cooked it up as part of Project Prometheus in 2058. I was one of the first volunteers–"

"I thought you said you came from 2153," Jack muttered incredulously, one eye on the Staff Sergeant, the other was on General Hammond who was talking on a Satellite-phone.

"I'm older than I look," Morgan chuckled… the laugh sounded hollow, and the grim smile didn't quite reach his eyes, "I was on my third heart at that point… I was a mess. The Cyber Warrior program broke me down and built me back together from the ground up… hard to tell where I end and the tech begins…"

Morgan flexed a black clad hand, clearly he saw something that they didn't… not that he said exactly what that was though.

"You gonna be okay…?"

That was Carter asking the question, she'd handed the laptop over to some FBI investigators nearby, but her attention was on the Staff Sergeant.

Morgan didn't laugh, he didn't smile, he didn't crack a joke… his next words were both concise and emotionless, "I've been involved in nearly every international conflict since the Zurich Affair in 2056. I have over a hundred years combat experience. I've seen more dead bodies than most coroners. Half of which I put in the ground myself. This… little incident barely even registers… I have seen worse – done worse… you're not ready… not for what's coming…"

"And that is…?"

"The Future…"

Whatever gravitas the situation may have had, was completely ruined by what Jack said next, "that… is the biggest crock of–"

"Colonel!"

"Sorry General–"

"There's no time for apologies," Hammond insisted, before waving over a nearby airmen, "we're needed back at the SGC, Sec-Def wants a personal debriefing in an hour–"

"We can't leave now George, they're still pulling people out of–"

"Jack! This is bigger than either of us," General Hammond insisted gesturing to the nearby tents and trucks filled with personnel and supplies, "the Feds have it all well in hand Colonel. We're needed elsewhere…"

Jack swore silently to himself, the General was right, and the Colonels ascent went pretty much unsaid, "I'll radio Teal'c, he's helping Army CID screen the survivors… we'll be ready to go in fifteen–"

"You're not ready," the Staff Sergeant snapped standing up and putting his helmet back on, "not for what's coming–"

"What other choice do we have?!"

Sergeant Morgan didn't answer the irate Colonels question, at least not directly.

He did however have a question for the Major, "tell me Major… what do you know about 3-D Printing?"

* * *

 **There will be no authors notes this day... Oops.**

 **This Concludes the Arrival Arch of this Story.**

 **My AN at the bottom of the Chapter 5 of Upon The Wings of Eagles should explain the delay, both of this Chapter and of the Vision Board.**

 **To repeat. Story Arch 3 is now finished. Arch 4 is being written. 16 Chapters and counting.**

 **Next Update: 2017/07/31**


End file.
